


"But This"

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 3K Round-up Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt " Swimwear - you know, Seven Have Christmas on Bondai Beach… that kind of frivolity" - though not really Christmas.  Just a bit of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"But This"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/gifts).



“ _You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”_ \- Henry David Thoreau

 

 

“You cannot be serious.” Ezra hadn't actually meant to say the words out loud – which was so often the case these days, with the these men. When had he become so damned comfortable with them that his mouth worked before consulting his brain? But it was too late now, he knew, as he saw Buck's eyebrows crawl up his forehead, and – worse – the corners of his mustache twitch.

 

“You mean about – this?” Buck lifted his arms and turned a slow circle, showing off the long expanse of his bare skin, or, more to the point, the very small electric blue Speedos he was wearing.

 

To his credit, the color of the garment did match both his eyes and the towel he was holding in one hand. And, now that Ezra noticed, the flip flops Buck was trying not to trip on as he turned.

 

Ezra took a deep breath and sighed. “Are you certain that you wouldn't be more comfortable in a larger size?” he asked, wondering if this was the male equivalent of the thong. Though he couldn't recall seeing anything of the sort in the latest _GQ_ s or _Men's Health_ , or any of the magazines he perused.

 

Buck laughed, the deep, rolling laugh that said he was truly amused. “I was thinking this was too big!” he said eventually. “There's more than enough room in here for the boys to -”

 

“Never mind,” Ezra said, holding up a hand and trying to close his ears before he heard anymore about Buck's 'boys'. “Though you may wish to take a shirt of some sort – or a cover-all as the sun is quite ferocious today.”

 

“Ain't that what we're here for?” Buck asked, draping his towel over his shoulders as he moved past Ezra to the hotel's access door to the beach. “What are you doing in here? Or – wait: are you the fashion police?” He grinned, his teeth flashing. “I'll have you to know this is this year's model. I bought it on-line from the Speedo company two weeks ago – at 20% off! It was barely on sale!”

 

Ezra shook his head, not wanting to think about how much it had cost Buck to get so – very little, actually, in the way of cloth. Though the color was rather extraordinary.

 

“My my my,” Buck said, standing at the door and gazing out upon the hotel's private beach. The hotel pool was to the right, surrounded by a wrought iron fence that served to stylishly separate it from the waterfront beach area – which was also separated from the rest of the large beach front by a larger version of the distinctive fence, running along the left. The right side of the beach was protected by a natural barrier of rocks, beyond which, according to the hotel's in-room information notebook, 'there be dragons'. But then, this was Beata Island, where the tourists were few and very wealthy as a rule. “So many beautiful women, so little time.”

 

“And even less if we have to sit through another round of meetings with – whoever they were.” Ezra said with a sigh and a wave of his hand. He hated the politics of what they did, though he was good at it.

 

“Let's hope that our contacts get this figured out. Be nice to have a day or two to play in the water before we have to head off to – well, wherever the hell it is that we end up heading off to.” Buck straightened and pushed at the door. “Right now, I am going to go out here and make some ladies mighty happy. You coming?”

 

Ezra glanced back toward the elevator. “I'll be along,” he said, watching the lights as the elevator car moved down toward this floor.

 

“Time's awasting!” Buck laughed as he went out the door, his blue Speedos sparkling in the sunlight.

 

The elevator bell dinged a few seconds later and Josiah and Nathan came out.

 

“Brother Ezra!” Josiah intoned with a smile. “The beach is that way.” Like Buck, Josiah had a beach towel. Unlike Buck, he also carried a canvas bag of books.

 

And also unlike Buck – and every other person at this hotel - his swimwear appeared to have been purchased before the days of the internet. In fact, Ezra thought as he looked down to find the first sight of actual skin, which appeared finally just above Josiah's large knee caps, this swimwear might well be from the turn of the century. The previous century.

 

“Josiah didn't have time to shop,” Nathan said.

 

“For the last hundred years?” Ezra asked, looking back to Josiah's face.

 

The big man grinned broadly, his teeth flashing. “No need to waste money on something that's going to be wet and covered with sand. And these do still fit.”

 

“Indeed,” Ezra agreed, his attention drawn to the brightly colored shirt Josiah wore. “Though I can't tell which of the colors in your shirt go best with the trunks – what color were they when you bought them?”

 

Josiah frowned, extending one sandaled foot so that he could see the material of the trunks. “Well, you know, I don't recall,” he said. “Seems to me they were black, but maybe they were grey. They do seem to have faded a bit.”

 

“Or a lot,” Nathan said. “This is black.” He waved toward his own trunks which were far more modern, covering him from his waist to his upper thighs. They were nicely fitted, but not too fitted – no Speedos here. Like Josiah, he wore a tropical shirt but the bright colors on it stood out against a black background, and the black was almost the same shade as his trunks.

 

“It is,” Josiah agreed. “Well, maybe I'll find some time to get some new ones one day.” He started toward the door, reaching up to pull his sunglasses down over his eyes. “For now – these will do nicely.”

 

Nathan shrugged and followed, pulling his own sun glasses down. He had a small backpack over one shoulder, and Ezra noted the various bottles of sun screen and lotions that were in the side pockets, for easy reach. “You coming, Ezra?” he asked as Josiah ambled through the door.

 

“Soon,” Ezra said, noting that the elevator was once more coming down.

 

“We'll be down on the beach,” Nathan said as he caught the door. “I've got plenty of sun screen – and you need it. This tropical sun is vicious.”

 

Ezra rolled his eyes but said politely, “Thank you, but I believe our time in the Sandbox has given me a sufficient education in protecting myself from the sun.”

 

Nathan grinned. “Yeah, but I seem to recall that you had to learn the hard way there, too. Don't want a repeat of that incident. You were out of commission for – how long?”

 

Ezra waved a hand. “It was hardly as bad as you make it seem. But I promise that I will be very careful here – I will take no chances.”

 

Nathan chuckled and shook his head. “Think I've heard that before,” he said, but he went on out the door, following in Josiah's wake. Ezra almost stepped up to the window, hoping that Buck would be somewhere in evidence – the idea of Nathan slathering Buck up with sunscreen was almost too much to miss.

 

But as he started to the windows, the elevator dinged once more and he turned to see JD scrambling out of it. At least, he thought it was JD. It was skinny enough, and the black hair seemed to be JD's usual mop. The rest of the young man was covered in something that appeared to be a diving suit, but it was covered with patterns of wires and sensors that made it glitter and sparkle enough to remind Ezra of something from a Superbowl Halftime show or a “Dancing with the Stars” contestant. JD's face was completely covered by a mask that might well have come from World War I, complete with goggles. In his hands he carried flippers and what looked to be gloves that matched this rather bizarre outfit.

 

Before Ezra could ask, a voice that sounded somewhat like JD's but filtered through layers of electronics crackled out through a speaker that seemed located somewhere around the center of the suit's chest. “We're testing a new bio-sensor grid – isn't this fantastic? If it works in the water, we'll have something that works almost anywhere in the world! Still need to test it in the Arctic – but this is brilliant!” He rushed past, stopping only when he misjudged the location of the door and walked straight into it. He didn't fall, but it was a near thing, and Ezra wondered how much the contraption weighed.

 

Before he could say anything, JD was out the door, winding his way down the concrete path, oblivious, as always, to the looks he got from other people.

 

“We?” Ezra murmured, wondering who his partner was.

 

“Yep,” a new voice said just behind him, and despite himself, Ezra flinched and turned quickly as his brain recognized the voice. “We,” Chris said, grinning at Ezra.

 

Ezra frowned, though he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over the man standing before him. Chris was dressed in his usual black, though he had opted for black swim trunks over which he wore a black and white stripped shirt. He wore black water shoes on his feet, and he carried a backpack that was also black. His black sunglasses were pushed up on his head, so that this green eyes were sharp and bright and focused on Ezra.

 

Unlike Nathan, Chris' black trunks were more like a pair of men's boxer brief's – though thicker and made of a shinier material. They seemed to have a mild shimmer, especially over the rather noticeable bulges and curves.

 

“So this was the big surprise?” Ezra asked, trying to get his eyes to move back to Larabee's face, though the image of those muscular thighs, bare and already tanned – when did he have time for that? - was etched in Ezra's head. “That we're participating in some sort of research on underwater diving sensors?”

 

“It's bigger than that,” Chris said. “This is some sort of thing that – well, if it's works, it's gonna be a great thing for us to have. And as we've volunteered to test it, we get it at cost.” He grinned at Ezra, a grin that made Ezra wonder if it wasn't safer to be in the water with the actual sharks. “Not only does it have extraordinary range and perception – according to the team that built it, it also extracts oxygen from the water, so no need for an oxygen tank.”

 

“So that's why we're actually here? The meetings with the contact team were actually -”

 

“No, they weren't a cover,” Chris said, stepping a little closer. Ezra could smell the clean scent of the man, soap and shampoo, and some sort of light coconut, suggesting that he was already wearing sun screen – but it was a very good one. “You know better than that.”

 

Ezra shrugged, trying to appear indifferent but it was difficult to think when Larabee was this close. The memory of the black trunks, clinging to the man's body, showing so much of what was beneath the material . . .

 

“Figured you'd already be out there, sitting by the pool and holding court,” Larabee said, shaking Ezra from his reverie.

 

Thankfully. His own swim trunks suddenly felt as small as Buck's had looked. He shifted, stepping back a little to try to put some space between them.

 

He felt more than saw Larabee's gaze wander down his own body and instinctively, he turned to the side, self-conscious.

 

Which was why he was unprepared to feel Larabee's fingers against his skin, along his thigh. The touch was so startling that he barely heard the question that the man asked. “Is that really a cut out section, or did you tear these getting away from somebody?”

 

Ezra opened his mouth to snap out a reply, but even to his own ears, his words seemed strangled. “This is a classic Versace, I will have you to know.”

 

Larabee laughed, though he did step back. “I can tell,” he said, taking a step around to face Ezra. “It's the gold fleur de lisle,or whatever they call that thing – though I don't recall them looking quite so, um, swollen – are you all right, Ezra?”

 

Ezra yanked at his own shirt, one that matched the baroque swim trunks – a deep purple on which the gold stood out perfectly. “I am perfectly well,” he snarled, pleased that it came out as such. “What exactly is it that we have to do – and let us be off to do it. I'd like to have some time to enjoy this place before returning to whatever wretched hellhole you have found for us next to protect.”

 

Larabee's lips twitched, but he didn't grin – which made Ezra even more annoyed. He stepped past the man, reaching into the pocket of his shirt to find his purple and gold sunglasses.

 

“Reckon you're right,” Larabee said, his voice mild as he followed along. As they moved out the door and into the heat, the sounds of laughing people and splashing water growing louder, Ezra felt Larabee move closer behind him but the man didn't come up beside him. Not that he could have; there were enough people around that the walkway was constrained and even going single file, Ezra had to periodically step around someone or something as he made his way down toward the beach itself.

 

He ignored the tingle in his back and ass, refusing to be believe that Larabee had laser vision. Instead, he waved as Buck called out to him and to Chris. Buck was, thankfully, in the pool, but surrounded by women wearing – well, Ezra noted, probably more than Buck was.

 

As they reached the entry way to the beach, Larabee stepped up beside him. He was wearing his sunglasses too, so Ezra couldn't see his eyes, but he could see that the easy grin was still here.

 

“What, exactly, are we supposed to do?” Ezra asked, looking down the beach to where he could see Josiah and Nathan camped out in beach chairs and with a large umbrella overhead. He noticed that there were other chairs around them, but that no one was in them, so he started out that way – only to be brought up short by Larabee's hand on his arm.

 

“This way,” he said, nodding in the opposite direction.

 

Ezra sighed, but let himself be drawn along down the beach, toward the far end that was bound by an outcropping of large dark rocks. The rocks were the border of the hotel's property, and the guests were warned in a variety of ways – including large signs in five different languages that were affixed to the fences – that the rocks were dangerous and that the hotel refused responsibility for any injuries caused by going on to them.

 

Which was, of course, exactly where Larabee was headed.

 

Ezra shook his head, though he was glad that he had had the foresight to also wear his water shoes. At least he had some traction when they started the long climb up and over and, eventually, down the other side of the wet and treacherous monoliths.

 

They finally arrived on the other side of the barrier, there was very little shore, smaller rocks, and vegetation growing almost to the sea itself. Ezra asked, “What exactly are we doing?”

 

Chris was scanning the ground and after a few seconds, he moved over to an area that seemed to be less inhospitable. Setting down the backpack, he opened it and pulled out a thick cloth that appeared to be a beach towel. It wasn't, though, as Ezra recognized the way the cloth moved and the fine shimmer that told him it was a high quality water-proof fiber with electrical and digital cable running through it.

 

As Chris spread it on the ground, Ezra looked out to the ocean. The waves were low, the tide in at the moment, which was most likely why they were testing this now. “I assume JD is already out there?”

 

“He left his stuff with Nathan and Josiah who are monitoring him from that position. We're doing it from here.” Chris pulled out a laptop and opened it, logging on quickly; as the computer booted up, he reached back into the back pack and brought out another device which he set up and then connected by way of a USB port to the computer. The device looked like an old-fashioned television antenna.

 

“So we're triangulating whatever readings it is he is taking? I assume there is no danger as he is out there along – or – wait . . .”

 

Chris glanced up at him and grinned. “Vin's out there, too. The idea here is to see if the sensors on JD's suit will let him locate someone out there without a signal. Vin's not diving – well, not deep. He doesn't have a tank. But JD can, though at this stage, we don't want him going too deep, either. He and Vin are going out tomorrow to dive deep and test the suit's ability to extract oxygen at deeper levels and to do deeper sensor readings. Today is just a sensor test and a chance for JD to get familiar with the suit.”

 

“Vin has no signal?” Ezra asked, worried suddenly for their missing team member.

 

Chris typed a few more things into the computer. He didn't look up as he answered, “No signal, no gear, no – anything. Hell, he's not even wearing clothes. We didn't want anything that would read as unnatural in the water or that would give off any signal reflection.”

 

Ezra blinked. Somewhere out there in the ocean, Vin was swimming naked.

 

He turned and looked back at Chris. “That seems a bit extreme,” he ventured, though the image of a Vin Tanner naked was a distraction. Even more that the image of Chris Larabee now, on his knees, the muscles of his thighs and ass displayed perfectly.

 

Chris shrugged, not taking his eyes of the screen. “Vin volunteered. He said he could handle it and I saw no reason to challenge him. You know something different?”

 

Ezra rolled his eyes, thankful he had his sunglasses on. As if he could know anything about Vin Tanner that Chris Larabee didn't already.

 

Chris apparently believed the same way as he didn't say anything else for a few minutes. Eventually, he put the laptop down on the cloth and stood up, stretching. His shirt rose up to expose his concave belly and the hard bones of his pelvis.

 

They really were nice swim trunks, Ezra through, even if they weren't designer.

 

Chris walked down to the water, his shadow stretching out before him. The sun was lowering though it would be a few hours yet before it was dark. Over the rocks and waves, Ezra heard the sound of music, the distinct percussion of steel drums and the melodic sound of woodwinds. The hotel's beach band, no doubt.

 

He sighed, hoping that this experiment wouldn't last too long.

 

Though the sight of Chris bending over to wash his hands in the surf was not unwelcome . . . .

 

He looked away as Chris straightened and turned, walking back toward him and the computer. The sun hit him fully and Ezra saw clearly the glint of gold in his green eyes, the dangerous grin that lifted the corner of his lips, and the languid blink that suggested a relaxation at odds with this mission statement.

 

“JD seems to think that he's gonna find Vin in a less than an hour,” Chris said walking past Ezra to the computer. He dropped back to his knees and looked at the laptop, touching a key. Then, with a shrug, he settled into a sitting position and pulled the back pack close. “Vin says we could be here all night.” He rooted around in the backpack for a short time then pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a couple of cups – not glass, but a plastic that Ezra knew well, as it was something they carried all the time. “You want to take a bet on them?” He held out the bottle in an offering – of a sort.

 

Ezra knew better than to assume that the man was offering a debauchery – their work, clandestine as it was, did not allow them to do a lot of drinking - or anything else – while they were on duty.

 

And the offer of it here had him a little worried; they might not be in a danger zone, but they still had enemies around, and Vin was out there, in the ocean, naked and incommunicado.

 

But then again . . .

 

He walked over and sat down on the 'blanket', wincing as a rock made its presence known. “You're asking me to choose between Vin Tanner, covert operative extraordinaire, and JD Dunne, gadget genius. Between Tanner, naked, weaponless, in the vast wide ocean alone, and Dunne, equipped with technology that, I assume, is state of the art – though he, too, it out there alone and unarmed?”

 

Chris grinned, cracking open the bottle and pouring whiskey into each of the cups. “Hardly seems fair. I offered to test the rig myself, thinking that would make it more fair, but JD was determined to do it – and the guys who are paying us wanted him to do it, too, said he knew more about how to take care of it.” He held out a cup to Ezra then, as Ezra took it, Chris held up his own in a salute. “Reckon Vin will be along any time now. I got clothes in case he shows up here.”

 

Ezra turned to look at the other man. “You have clothes. So he is to come here, on this beach, naked.”

 

Chris frowned. “Where else would you want him to go?”

 

Ezra frowned in turn. “Where did he – go into the water?”

 

Chris grinned and looked out toward the ocean. “Where did he get naked, you mean?”

 

Despite himself – despite every measure of self control he had worked for decades to achieve, Ezra felt himself blush. Damn Chris Larabee.

 

Talk through it, his mother's voice snapped in his head. It's the alcohol making you hot. He could see her fanning herself with her hand, in that languid way she had that reminded him of Scarlett O'Hara. “It does seem that he should go back to where he started, as his clothes would be there.”

 

Chris chuckled, picking up the bottle. “He is. He left from here – well, not right here, but from the hotel.”

 

Ezra took a breath, trying to get that idea in his head. Granted, this was an area not on the great tourist map of the world, but – still. There were people about. Maids and people who worked here. And some tourists.

 

There were, still, codes of behavior and things that one did not do in polite society.

 

Or any society.

 

Though now that he thought about it, recalling that by definition, they were mercenaries, well, it did sort of wipe the glow from his antique view of the society from which he came.

 

“He's wearing paint,” Chris said, holding out the bottle toward Ezra in an offer of a second round. “That waterproof, camouflage stuff that we almost used last year, when we were in Myanmar – the stuff that Buck went ahead and bought because it reminded him of those art photos?”

 

Ezra sipped his drink, recalling the paint – and the discussion. And the pictures of actresses and some actors that Buck had plastered all over every surface in his attempt to get Chris to approve the expenditure. At the time, Buck had believed that sending in some of their women covertly would have been the best answer – and their best disguise would have been to paint themselves so they could blend into the background.

 

“As I recall, your objection at the time was that the colors of the paint only worked in certain environments. I don't remember that the paints Buck bought were those that would allow someone to blend into the walls of a hotel.”

 

Chris grinned again. “Your memory is as good as ever,” he said, leaning back on his elbows and stretching out his legs. He was long and lean, and the sun loved him even now, burnishing the blond hairs scattered from his head to his ankles. It gave him a glow that made Ezra wish he was a leprechaun. Or that it were raining. “The carpets and drapes here, on the hotel – well, they are supposed to give the impression of water and the sea.”

 

The image that came to mind was breath-taking, not just in the vision of Vin painted in swirling colors of blue, green, and black, but in the sheer audacity of it.

 

It took Ezra some time – and the rest of is whiskey – to find words. When he did, the ones that came first were actually not the ones he intended. “Who . . . painted him?”

 

Chris snorted. “Who do you think?”

 

“You?”

 

Chris shrugged. “Me, Buck, Vin himself. Mary had some expert on Skype talk us through it.”

 

“Mary had – you and Buck and – was this some party that you shared with the world?” He was angry now, the rush of it coming suddenly and strong. Part of him was angry for Vin – to be subject to that sort of indignity, to be treated as some sort of object that random people discussed.

 

But another part, and perhaps the bigger part of what motivated his anger, was that Chris had been privy to this event, painting Vin's naked body. Chris and Vin, with Buck the hedonist, body paint and -

 

“Ezra.” It was one word, a soft one at that. But there was a flatness to it that cut straight through Ezra's reaction. “Vin agreed to the plan – all of it. Every aspect of it. It was not an orgy nor a porn movie. You know him better than that. Even Buck behaved himself – well, after Vin punched him the first time he said something stupid.”

 

Despite himself, Ezra grinned. Then he thought about it, visualized it, and he chuckled. Though a little bit of anger returned: he'd loved to have seen that punch.

 

“Vin didn't want a lot of people around. It was quick and simple – hell, we did most of it with the wide paint brushes you use for walls. And he – well, according to the specialist, you tape down anything . . . important. Nothing got touched that wasn't supposed to be painted, and Vin took care of the more personal areas.”

 

Ezra drew in a deep breath. The sun was sinking lower, casting the waves in a bright light that made them sparkle. It was a beautiful view, though now, thinking of Vin out there, it was less romantic.

 

In fact, it was downright scary.

 

“Do you think it is wise for them to be out there after dark? And aren't there sharks in these waters?”

 

Chris shook his head, not responding.

 

They sat in silence for a time, Chris turning every now and then to look at the computer screen. Eventually, as the sun was low enough in the sky that it barely touched the waves, there was slight 'ding' from the computer and Chris grinned. “JD found him. They're heading in.”

 

Ezra nodded, relieved. The wait was almost over. Though there was something pleasant about being here, sitting on the beach with the sun going down, watching the waves, drinking whiskey. Being alone with Chris.

 

Given their schedules as of late, all the crises in the world that seemed to demand their special abilities, this was a very rare thing. He almost missed the days when they had been merely a training unit for Special Operations. The decision to reactivate was one that he hadn't been sure about – still wasn't. He was damned tired of – well, he was just damned tired.

 

“You told me once that your best memories were of vacations at the beach,” Chris said quietly. “This was the best I could do for now.”

 

Ezra blinked, caught by surprise. He turned to find Chris looking at him, his green eyes catching the light reflected back from the water. It made them sparkle in a way Ezra had never seen before. “What ever -”

 

“You think I forgot your birthday?” Chris smiled, shaking his head a little but still holding the gaze. “We're not that busy, Ezra.”

 

Ezra swallowed, considering the scope of this. “You arranged – this whole mission – the meetings with -”

 

Chris shrugged and finally did look away. “I only set up the one for the new assignment. But once I told JD we were coming here, he set up the meet on the suit and got Vin on board. The others – well, any excuse for a few days of R 'n R was fine by them.”

 

“Do they . . .”

 

Chris chuckled. “Do they know it's your birthday? I didn't mention it, but I wouldn't be surprised. It's not like we don't all live in each other's backpockets these days. And Nathan does have everyone's medical files memorized backwards and forwards.”

 

The idea of the others knowing that this was why they were here – the idea that they knew about this – this – this 'thing' between Chris and him -

 

“I wouldn't worry,” Chris said, as if knowing Ezra's mind. “Ain't like the others don't have their own secrets to keep. And as I said – any excuse for R 'n R.” He turned to Ezra again and reached out a hand, dropping it lightly on his shoulder. “I like that thing you're wearing. The gold is in the right places.”

 

Ezra shook his head but he felt the blood rising in his face again. It was an effort, one that he had to consciously choose. The truth was not easy for him to admit. “I splurged on it. A gift to myself – no,” he caught himself, “a gift for you.”

 

Chris laughed, a sound Ezra didn't hear often enough. “If I'd known that, I'd have found us a beach long ago!” The hand on Ezra's arm shifted, rubbing across his upper back before dropping on his far shoulder, Chris' arm warm around him. “I lied about Vin's clothes,” he murmured against Ezra's ear. “Josiah is meeting him.”

 

Ezra leaned slightly to the side, letting his head rest against Chris'. “How long do we have?” he asked, feeling a warmth in his belly that had nothing to do with this tropical paradise.

 

“No plans until day after tomorrow, when we catch the plane out. The rest of the tests on the suit are between JD, Vin, Buck, and Josiah. I made a reservation for a late dinner to be brought to my room, but there's a microwave if we don't manage to get there while it's hot.”

 

The warmth in Ezra's belly spread upward and he closed his eyes. “Is there more whiskey?” he asked.

 

Chris' laugh was a vibration through him. “There is.” He felt Chris move, but not far enough to disturb the position he was in. There was a click then the whir of the disc drive on the computer working, and Ezra knew Chris had closed it.

 

He felt the cup in his hand grow heavier though he couldn't hear the sound of the flowing whiskey over the dull roar of the ocean.

 

“Moon's coming up,” Chris murmured into the peace.

 

Ezra opened his eyes to find that it was almost full dusk. The moon was a crescent, reflecting on the water and the breeze from the ocean was cooler. In the distance, the hotel band still played, and he could ear voices and laughter, but it was far away. Another world.

 

“What are you going to do for next year?” Ezra asked, feeling the last vestiges of tension drain from his body.

 

Chris' lips touched him at this temple. “Not finished with this one yet,” he said. “Let's see what ideas we come up with.”

 

It was the same plan he used for everything, but so far, it had worked. And tonight, it was working well, too.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For Jojo, belated birthday greetings!


End file.
